Encompassing Elder
by erikablair
Summary: After the war, Harry surprises everyone and becomes an unspeakable. Throwing himself into magical lore, and various branches almost obsessively to determine why he feels empty and why he dreams his nemises memories. Harry finds out Voldemort is his soulmate and driven by revenge creates the most powerful wand in the magical world. Death comes and offers Harry a way to go back.
1. Chapter 1

The wizarding world was shocked when after the war, instead of becoming a fabled Auror like his father, Harry Potter dove into work as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. He carried out his work like a soul possessed and only came home to sleep, much to the consternation of his new wife, Ginny Weasley. He dove into obscure magicks and magical lore most of which the magical world had either forgotten, outlawed, or deemed unimportant. But any piece of information, any forgotten knowledge was important in Harry's quest.

He needed to know why since the war he felt as if he was fading from existence, why the world had gradually seemed to have lost colour and meaning, and most importantly why whenever he fell asleep (or more likely collapsed from exhaustion) he would dream what he could only deduce to be Voldemort's memories.

After spending another day scouring the Black library, he was no closer to finding his answer and apparated home, to the Potter manor. He was immediately assaulted by Ginny when he appeared, his arms full of his red-haired, fiery wife. She gave him a sultry smile and a pepper-up, telling him to go shower before joining her in their bedroom. After performing his husbandly duties he looked over at her and sighed.

'At least she's happy', Harry thought as he looked over at his wife's sleeping form, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

He knew he wouldn't be able to go to sleep tonight, especially with the pepper up still coursing through his veins. But besides that, he couldn't get comfortable and as much as he loved Ginny, being in her presence felt wrong. Sex with Ginny had started out easily enough, it was even enjoyable but recently he had just been playing the part and had reverted to muggle drugs to be able to perform.

Slowly removing himself from his wife's clutches he drew up his sleep pants and wondered down to Potter Manor's library. He hadn't explored it as much as he'd like, because whenever he tried to seek refuge within it, either Ron, Hermione or Ginny would find him and drag him out, insisting on his company. It was exhausting. But on the rare occasion when he was the sole waking person in his home, he sought refuge within the towering walls of his family's ancestral library.

He had been surprised by the range of topics and magical scale that existed within the library initially but came to learn that the Potter's, while being majority Light magic users, had a fairly neutral view on magic as a whole and his father had been the first to declare a definitive side in a magical war in centuries. It had surprised him, as he had often gotten the impression that the Potter's had been a solely light family, where everyone had been in Gryffindor since the line's beginnings. But as he had read some of his ancestor's journals, he had discovered that the Potter's had been in every house and it was only the last couple of generations where they had solely been in Gryffindor.

Huffing in exhaustion as he reached the double doors of his family's library, he entered. Blinking tiredly at the expanse of books the room held, he noticed the stack of tomes that had been next to his preferred seating area had been put away. Huffing in annoyance he wandered around the library to find the tomes he had procured last time.

Surprisingly the Potter library had quite a vast collection of books on Soul Magick, and Harry had been about to start on his pile when he had been called away. Settling into what has been affectionately dubbed 'Harry's nook', he began with a nondescript brown book, where the title had long since faded. Thankfully, the inside of the book was well preserved, and the text looked as fresh as the day it was printed.

As he was reading the book, his previous languid posture began to stiffen and straighten as the words on the page captured his attention. His symptoms, his dreams… it was all being explained and what the answer was… Harry swallowed back his bile.

_Soulmates_. His _soulmate_ was Voldemort.

He flew into a frenzy and began to read all mention of soulmates in the books he had collected, and then some as he continued to raid the library's Soul Magick section. All books confirmed his fears. He had killed his own soulmate. Upon this realisation Harry let out a truly agonised sound. A thought broke through the bleakness of Harry's thoughts, had Dumbledore known? Did his friends know?

A cold clarity came over him as a plan began to form, he would see if his friends had truly been in the dark. As for Dumbledore, he had a portrait to question.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stayed up until the morning broke, the knowledge that he had killed his own soulmate and that the people he had considered family might have known was devastating. He was currently nursing his fifth glass of firewhiskey, the embers of the fire in the library had long died out. Swirling the contents of his glass he took a swig, mentally complaining that he could no longer feel the burn. Finishing off his glass, he stood up with a steadying hand on the table beside him.

Harry tiredly rubbed his face as he trudged up to the downstairs bathroom. He didn't think he could face Ginny right now; she would know something was wrong and question him. In his inebriated state, he didn't think he could stop himself from shouting his accusations at her.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror after his shower he eyed himself critically. He had scrubbed himself raw and made sure to get rid of any evidence of his nightly activities, even going so far to put a minor glamour on himself. Harry put just enough magic to obscure the bags under his eyes and the ashen quality of his skin, it wasn't enough of a change to draw any attention, just enough to stop people from asking any questions.

Dressing up in his usual garb, he bypassed the dining room and headed straight to the property's apparition point. Apparating to Hogsmeade, he made his way up to Hogwarts. The morning sun glinted off of Hogwarts windows, making them shine gold. Harry took a moment to admire the majestic castle, Hogwarts would always hold a special place in his heart. It was no longer the Hogwarts he knew however; the damage caused by the war caused Hogwarts to go under extensive renovations and the innate magic of Hogwarts felt heavier, sadder.

He passed through the gates with no issue, the wards recognising him and his intent. He was no danger to the students, or to the school. He stopped in the courtyard and reverently ran his hand over the inscribed names upon the monument. It was nothing overly grandiose or eye catching, just a simple slap of stone with all of the names of those who died in the last wizarding war. From both sides. It was an insistence he had made during its construction without really knowing why, just gave the excuse that everyone deserved to grieve for the ones they lost no matter what side of the war they were on.

His eyes traced over the names, picking out the names of students he had vaguely known but never really talked to. His eyes came across his godfather's name and he felt his eyes begin to burn. He had never gotten over the deaths of those he had considered family. Sirius, Remus, Fred, Hedwig, even Tonks to an extent. But now they were all gone, and even though he was still sad over his parents' death, the pain wasn't as raw as it was for the names on this plaque. He had _known _these people, had talked to them, loved them. He couldn't miss what he had never had.

His eyes landed on a name and he felt the air rush out of him. There in simple script was his soulmate's name, his real name; _Tom Marvolo Riddle Jnr. _He traced the name reverently and felt a sense of loss and dread more profound than any of the other names had provoked in him. Immediately he began feeling guilty, he had never known Tom Riddle as a man, just as Voldemort - the monster. A monster who had caused so much heartache, so much loss and so much fear. But he was still his soulmate.

Sighing, Harry turned away from the plaque and began making his way towards the school's doors. He pushed them open to come face-to-face with now Headmistress McGonagall.

"Mr Potter," she exclaimed, "I had felt the wards permit a visitor, but I wasn't expecting you. Today's not one of your teaching days."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "no Headmistress, I was just wondering if I could have a word with the Headmaster."

McGonagall's lips turned up into a fond smile. "Of course, Mr Potter. But remember, as you are no longer my student, you may call me Minerva."

"Then I insist you call me Harry, Minnie" Harry responded with a cheeky smile.

McGonagall fixed Harry with a light glare, but the amused tilt to her lips lessened its impact.

"Come Harry, I'll take you to my office so you can talk with Albus."

Harry nodded his thanks and fell into step besides his old professor.

"How have the students settled in so far?" Harry asked. It was nearing the end of September and Harry could feel the cool air outside being radiated back at him by the stone bricks of Hogwarts.

"With the war still in recent memory its been difficult. Especially for the younger students who've lost family in the war. Its been hardest on the Slytherins; with so many of their own family on the other side of the war, they haven't been able to grieve as openly as the other houses."

Harry smile turned down at this news. He had seen what had happened to many of the pureblood families who had publicly declared themselves on Voldemort's side and it was horrifying to him. Lords and Ladies were thrown into prison without even a Priori Incantatem, and the ones who were pulled in front of the courts were given nothing short of a show trial by those newly in charge. Dark Magick was even more taboo and anything relating to its history, its roots were destroyed. Priceless tomes and artefacts were hunted with a zealous not seen in previous generations. Families were torn apart, children orphaned and even those only rumoured to have ties to the dark weren't spared.

He had tried to say it was wrong, had tried to stand up for what's right and preach community and forgiveness after the war. But no one listened. They were keen to love him as the saviour, regale him as a hero but when it came to speaking about current injustices he was ignored. There were people more knowing with far more experience than him dealing with these matters he was always told. He wasn't seen as anything more than a trophy to those at the Ministry.

Lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed that they had reached the office until McGonagall stopped.

"I know what you're thinking Harry and we're trying our best to heal these wounds, but I'm afraid they're just too fresh right now." McGonagall consoled. "Go to Albus, maybe he'll have some insights for you. I've got a meeting to get to and I'm sure you know your way," she finished with a soft smile.

Harry nodded his thanks and hopped onto the spiralling staircase. He could feel the rage that the man he had viewed as a Grandfather might have known seething beneath his skin. Swallowing the lump in his throat he approached the door to McGonagall's office.

It was time to confront Dumbledore. It was time to find out if he knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Almost a whole year since my last update to this story, I apologise it just took me a while to come up with how to write the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it, please R&R**

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Entering the Headmaster's office felt entirely nostalgic to Harry, of course, he had been here many times after Hogwarts to have tea with McGonagall, but he still couldn't separate the space from the man who had previously dwelt within it. He still expected to see a carbon copy of the Gryffindor Common Room when he stepped into the office, grandiosely decorated in the house colours of red and gold. He admitted, if only privately, that he much preferred McGonagall's décor.

Done in a neutral palette, McGonagall had brought in pops of colour that referenced all four of the Hogwarts houses. Deep green throw pillows with silver stitching dotted the room, the drapes were done in midnight blue with bronze curtain ropes, solid wooden tables were softened with thick yellow tablecloths fringed with brown and deep red ottomans with intricate gold stitching were placed strategically around the office. No one colour dominated the other, and they seemed to all work to bring out the best in each other; a display Harry was sure was completely intentional.

What struck Harry the most, however, was the large tapestry hanging on a blank stretch of wall that previously held shelves and shelves stocked full of the previous Headmaster's peculiar instruments. It ran the entire length of the wall and held a picture of Hogwarts, the original Hogwarts, with all the House's animals circling the castle in a show of unity; protecting the castle and all who dwelt within it. He knew that the Hogwarts house-elves had spent months stitching this and he could feel the love and care infused in every thread as they blessed it with their magic to make it impervious and everlasting.

After admiring the office Harry strolled towards Dumbledore's portrait, careful to keep his anger and suspicion concealed. He did not want to alarm the old coot. Dumbledore caught sight of Harry giving him a congenial smile, his eyes twinkling.

"Harry, my boy, what brings you here? Surely a young man such as yourself would enjoy his living hours with his friends and wife rather than talking to an old man stuck in a portrait," Dumbledore chuckled.

Harry's smile became tense at the moniker, hearing the underlying condescending tone for the first time.

"Headmaster, I was hoping you could give me your insight into something I've been experiencing lately," Harry started carefully, making sure to keep any discernible inflexion from his tone, tracking for any subtle movements the portrait made with keen eyes.

"Why of course my boy, ask away," Dumbledore reassured.

Harry began to recount his experiences to Dumbledore, how colours seemed less bright and his emotions flatter since the end of the war. He could see Dumbledore putting on a contemplative expression but when Harry mentioned dreaming Voldemort's memories, he noticed Dumbledore's eyes blaze and his grandfatherly façade crack.

"What do you think this means, Headmaster?" Harry questioned innocently.

"Horcruxes are dark magic, Harry," Dumbledore began, "having a piece of Voldemort's soul within you has left its mark. It's unsurprising that you're experiencing such a phenomenon."

"That's rather interesting Headmaster," Harry replied before a savage look came over his face, "because when I was exploring my family's library, specifically the section on Soul Magick," Harry saw Dumbledore freeze in his frame, "I came across a rather different explanation. You made me kill my soulmate!" Harry snarled.

Harry heard gasps of shock and horror from the other portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses but paid it no mind.

The Headmaster looked at Harry's figure with critical eyes before gently smiling, "yes, I suppose I did," Dumbledore admitted, his cruel words contrasting with the soft expression on his face.

"So, you knew?!" Harry breathed out, betrayal coating his tone, he had already suspected but Dumbledore's easy confession threw him.

"Of course, I knew. I knew from the moment I heard the true prophecy from Sybil."

"The prophecy was fake? My parents died for nothing?!" Harry screeched.

"Not for nothing, for the greater good. I couldn't let you grow in the magical world knowing what I knew, knowing what you were destined for, knowing you were _dark_," explained Dumbledore.

Harry gritted his teeth at Dumbledore's words, wanting to burn Dumbledore to ashes with his gaze alone. "Who else knew?" interrogated Harry.

Dumbledore's expression grew cruel, "no one I will say."

Harry could feel his magic crackling between his fingers begging to destroy the man in front of him. How can he force a painting to reveal its secrets? A spell popped into his head and Harry felt a bloodthirsty smile graced his lips that made the other portraits flinch.

"You see, Dumbledore," Harry began conversationally, "in my pursuit of discovering my situation I came across a number of rather old, obscure, forgotten magicks. One of the branches I discovered, was portrait manipulation," Harry disclosed.

Before Dumbledore could reply, Harry silently cast a spell at the portrait, the magic crawled and seeped into the canvas and its subject. Harry knew it was in effect from the slight yellow tinge; Dumbledore looked enraged and his usually twinkling eyes hard.

"Now, let's do this again," Harry gave Dumbledore a sharp smile, "who knew that I was Voldemort's soulmate?" Harry asked in a cold voice.

Harry watched Dumbledore struggling not to answer, his portrait-self just as stubborn as when he was alive. He pushed more magic into the active spell wrapped around Dumbledore's portrait.

"No one! They only knew you were dark and destined to be on the opposing side, that you would have secured his victory had I not intervened," Dumbledore spat.

"Who's they?" Harry growled. "Answer me!" Harry commanded his tone ringing, enforcing the spell's intent.

Dumbledore began listing order members, starting with the ones Harry suspected were deep in Dumbledore's pockets but hadn't had much personal contact with himself; Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, and Hestia Jones. Harry noticed Dumbledore begin to fight harder and made his magic tighten on the portrait; he wasn't surprised when Moody was named, he was vehemently anti-dark, the next name made Harry rage.

"What?! She knew she knew the hell I was going through at that place she did nothing! She let me starve, let me get beaten, and she never helped. At least I finally know why that good-for-nothing squib was never interested in- "

Harry stopped his rant seeing Dumbledore try and escape his frame; he failed. Harry's eyes flashed in amusement at Dumbledore's disgruntled expression.

"You didn't think I'd make it that easy for you?" Harry asked, darkly amused. "You're not going anywhere until you answer my questions. After that," Harry caught his Dumbledore's gaze, "we'll see. Now tell me the rest, I know there are more. If you already went to this extent to control my life, I doubt you'd leave it to chance when I finally re-entered the wizarding world."

Dumbledore speaking the final names were like pulling teeth. Harry went taunt when he mentioned the Weasley Patriarch and Matriarch, but the final three names felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed.

"No," Harry rasped, "you're lying!"

"You know I can't lie under the spell you've cast," Dumbledore barked, glaring at Harry. "Didn't you ever find it curious at how out of all the carriages in the train Ronald chose yours? Or how about when it was Ginevra who was given the diary? Do you think I didn't know? I knew the moment it entered this school what it was and who had it. It was a calculated risk, but I think you'll agree with me that it paid off."

"What about Hermione?" Harry questioned, feeling cold.

"Hermione was an unexpected asset, it wasn't difficult to get her to revere me but when I saw an opportunity that Halloween night for you two to come closer, I took it."

"The troll!" Harry realised.

"Yes, Quirinus may have let him in but I suggested it go to the first-floor bathroom when I felt it enter the wards."

"She could have died!"

"But she didn't, of course, it would have been disappointing if she had but it was the perfect first test of your heroism and gave me another set of eyes on you."

"They were spying on me?"

"Not at first, they only thought I was a concerned adult inquiring about their friend's health and happiness. When I revealed their true mission they were too wrapped up in their worship of me to refuse, after all, I was the great Albus Dumbledore and you were just the boy-who-would-die and you couldn't even stay dead," Dumbledore groused.

Harry felt numb, his entire world had collapsed; he had been groomed to kill his soulmate since entering the Wizarding World and his friends had helped, even if they didn't know the whole story. Harry flicked his eyes back to Dumbledore and underneath his irritation spotted an emotion that made his hackles rise – triumph.

Harry stood to his full height, "I will get my revenge Dumbledore," Harry intoned, "I will find a way and I will burn you where you stand. In the meantime," Harry snapped his fingers, rolling a bright green flame flecked with black in his hand, "I should leave you with something to remember me by, for the rest of this life at least."

The sight of the flame made the other portraits flinch back in fear, Dumbledore continued to stare at Harry coldly from his frame. The first licks to the canvas made Dumbledore start to scream in pain, a sound Harry abruptly cut off. Dumbledore continued to howl in silence, but after a few minutes his movements died down and the portrait went still.

Harry strode to the exit upon seeing his flames dissipate, waving at hand at the rest of the portraits he bound them to silence. They could never recount what had happened since Harry stepped into the room and what befell Dumbledore. Now it was time to research, it was time for him to find a way back.


End file.
